


Day 4

by stubliminalmessaging



Series: Gallavich Week 2014 [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich Week 2014, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1814923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubliminalmessaging/pseuds/stubliminalmessaging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the thick of Ian's first bout of depression Mickey tries to get him up and out of bed and his desperation to be alone makes him rethink his stubbornness to fix him without help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 4

**Author's Note:**

> this was actually prompted by an anon: ian is still having a depressive episode, mickey drags him into the shower and talks to him about happy things like their future. he struggles to hold it together and when ian is in bed he cries in front of mandy who comforts him

                It’s been six days since Ian has left the bed and Mickey is nearing the end of his rope. Ian didn’t talk, he didn’t eat, he didn’t even move. Mickey spent a lot of time sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to talk to him, telling him about his day and about things that happened at work. Ian never responded, just pretended to sleep but Mickey was listening too closely to his breathing to believe he was actually asleep.

 

                Sometimes he wants to give up and he says cruel things to Ian and sometimes hits him or throws things at him in his frustration before storming out to blow off steam. He usually takes it out on the girls and Kev and the other assholes at the bar before he goes crawling back once he realized how much of a dick he was being.

 

                He’d crawl into bed with Ian and try to touch him, to apologize and try to coax a response out of him. He’d get nothing from his boyfriend and it would take everything he had in him not to give up again.

 

                Instead he persevered, determined to get Ian to do _something_. It took him some effort but he rolled a completely unresponsive Ian to the edge of the bed and dragged him into a sitting position. Still swaddled in a blanket he hauled him to his feet and bore most of his weight as he led him to the bathroom. He let Ian lean on him as he pulled the blanket and his sweats off him, then left him sitting on the toilet lid while he turned the water on in the shower and made sure it was an alright temperature.

 

                He took one look at Ian sitting slouched on the toilet before he stripped his own clothes off and hauled his boyfriend into the shower with him. Ian’s heights and his own stocky stature worked against Mickey right away and he wondered how he would manage to wash Ian and hold him upright at the same time.

 

                “Ay, firecrotch, you gotta stand on your own,” Mickey said, pulling back a bit to try and look into Ian’s eyes. Ian stared blankly at the wall behind him. He sighed and leaned against the crook of Ian’s neck when he didn’t respond. “Throw me a fuckin’ bone, man. Just stand on your own and let me do this and you can go back to laying around. I won’t bother you for the rest of the day.”

 

                After a moment Ian nodded minutely and Mickey pulled away slowly. He kept an eye on Ian as he let him bear his own weight until he could reach around him and retrieve the soap. He soaped Ian up and switched it out for shampoo, reaching up and scrubbing it into Ian’s hair.

 

                The silence was grating on him so he defaulted to Ian’s usual role and filled it. He thought of happy things, sparse as they were, and started. “The first chance we get, we’re moving. I can probably scare a guy or two up who owe me some favours into knocking down the price on an apartment.”

 

                Unsurprisingly, Ian had nothing to contribute. Mickey went on as he rubbed his fingers in hopefully-soothing circles on Ian’s scalp. “It’d be a shitty one-bedroom place probably but at least it’d be ours. We could fuck as loud as we want whenever we want without my sister or my wife pounding on the door and telling us to shut the fuck up.”

 

                He nudged Ian under the shower head and pushed back his hair, rinsing out the shampoo and letting it run down the rest of his body to wash off the soap. He was done washing Ian but he didn’t move to leave the shower, just standing there and letting the hot water wash over him. He leaned against Ian’s shoulder and continued. “So once you get back in gear, we’ll do that, alright? Move out of this place and leave all the bad shit behind. The sooner you feel better, the sooner we can move on. Together, like we’re supposed to.”

 

                When he didn’t receive a response to that, he finally gave in and reached down to turn the shower off. He got out first and got Ian a towel, passing it to him. It was the only towel he had found so he figured he’d just air dry, and he pulled his jeans over his damp legs. It was uncomfortable but Ian was stepping out of the tub and so Mickey was there, ready for him, wrapping him up in a clean blanket.

 

                He helped Ian back to his room and back into bed, pleased to see Mandy had changed the sheets and pillow cases while they were showering. She sat at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee and Mickey shot her a look of thanks on the way by.

 

                Ian settled back into his spot on the far side of the bed facing the wall and Mickey sat with him a moment, brushing his fingers over Ian’s damp hair. Ian shifted, scooting away from Mickey’s touch.

 

                “You said you’d leave me alone,” he whispered, and Mickey left him then. He crawled off the bed and closed the bedroom door behind him, going out to the kitchen. Mandy looked up at him and the glassiness of her eyes set him off. He scrubbed at his eyes and sniffed.

 

                “Mickey, you can’t fix him. Not alone. He needs help,” Mandy insisted, letting Mickey turn away from her. If he couldn’t cry directly in front of her she’d let him cover it all he wanted.

 

                To her surprise, he turned to her. His eyes were puffy and red and he was bawling. “He bargained with me to leave him alone,” Mickey choked. “The only reason he got out of bed and let me do that was so that I would leave him alone.”

 

                “Mick,” Mandy said, getting up from the table. He put up a hand to keep her at a distance. “He’s not himself, Mick, he-“

 

                “He can’t stand me. He’s been chasing after me for fucking years and the one time he needs me to do it for him I couldn’t fucking do it,” Mickey was full on sobbing now, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Now he hates me so much that being depressed and alone is better than spending time with me.”

 

                Mandy ignored how Mickey tried to keep her from touching him and stepped in close, tentatively laying a hand on his shoulder. “Mick, you’ve done what you can. Don’t you think you should let someone look at him? Someone professional?”

 

                “Like a fucking shrink?” Mickey asked, defaulting to aggression since he didn’t know what his actual feelings were. Mandy could practically see his hackles rise.

 

Somewhere in there, he knew Mandy was right. He would take him two more days to finally accept it and help Mandy take him in to the mental health center. Every second of every day he blamed himself for Ian’s condition, how he couldn’t man up and choke out anything more than ‘don’t…’ as he watched the boy he loved leave.


End file.
